Light Hearted, A Series of Fortunate Events!
by 7LetterDirt
Summary: Substanceless, Plotless, Unadulterated Fluff! Not For Those Who Have Weak Enamel! Sugary Enough To Cause Diabetes In A Single Serving! Royai, with mentions of Ed and Crew. NOW 25 PERCENT SEXIER!
1. CONCEPT ONE: COFFEE

hey there.

* * *

Lighthearted: A Series of Fortunate Events

* * *

Summary: In response to the overall misery I've been sensing from my peers recently, I've decided to write a series of fluff-tastic Royai one-shots/drabbles. Hopefully I'm successful, as fluff isn't my usual cup of tea.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: ALTHO IT MIGHT BE MOST EXCELLENT TO OWN ROY, I DON'T. NOR DO I OWN ANY OF HIS FRIENDS OR ASSOCIATES.

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Concept One: Coffee

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**Concept One, Idea A**

**Title: Epiphany is Not Just A Town In Upstate New York.**

Roy Mustang, for all his (excuse the pun) firepower, was really nothing but a great big, flamin' (again, the pun!) pansy, Riza Hawkeye decided as she mixed his coffee. Honestly, she thought, what kind of a man took SIX bloody sugars in his coffee?!

Riza herself drank her coffee black. No sugar. No cream. Straight-up, right to the point, caffeine saturated, black coffee. The kind that made your eyes water. The kind that made every muscle in your face twinge. The kind of coffee that put hair on your ches..

She paused a moment, spoon spinning and clinking aimlessly in Roy's cup.

Riza quickly mixed twice as much sugar into her own coffee, and poured a good measure of cream in as well.

* * *

**Concept One, Idea B**

**Title: Roy Mustang, Upstanding Military Officer. **

Roy looked up as Riza entered the room. Balanced precariously on top of a stack of files were two cups of steaming coffee. She walked with precise, measured steps, confident, although her load was a dangerous one.

This happened every morning, without fail.

Every morning Riza Hawkeye would retrieve their work for the day, along with two cups of coffee. Everyday she would enter, poised, the cups balanced on top of the files, and everyday Roy would hope, nay, **_pray_**, to whatever God there may be, that the cups would fall.

A devious, mischevious, lowdown'n'dirty hope it was, he knew, but the benefits of that spill would be worth the initial discomfort of his irksome conscious.

And so, with a diligence previously not witnessed from the Colonel, he set about with his nefarious scheming.

In the end, a perfect opportunity presented itself, and he leaped upon it. Well, _technically_, it leaped upon him. But we'll save the specifics for a later time, as Maes Hughes was involved, and anything having to do with Maes Hughes, and more directly, involving Maes Hughes **_SPEAKING, _**can get tedious.

The opportunity itself was little Elysia Hughes, and her weapon of choice, a thick, chunky pencil. It was well-suited for Roy's crime, seeing as everyone knew who it belonged to, but wouldn't DARE blame her. Especially if they valued the connection their neck made with their head. Daddy was protective of his little girl, suffice to say.

Roy arranged for little Elysia to "forget" the pencil, quite conveniently, on the floor, and more accurately, RIGHT SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR.

He avoided it, checked on it, stared at it, obsessed about it, right up until he left that night (his victim had had a well-deserved day off, all part of his devious scheme). And as he had flicked out the lights that night, he whispered a few words of encouragement to the pencil, as if to inspire it to be more roll-ee than usual.

"Give 'er hell, soldier", he said to the writing utensil, then tipped his hat and walked out.

And now, remembering that moment, he was struck with how brilliant his plan was. How simple. How perfect.

And how now, after literally **_days_** of planning, it was all coming together…

Hawkeye entered the room. Files. Coffee cups.

_Perfect…_Roy thought.

"Luitenant. Good morning.", said Roy, gruffly, careful not to look up all too obviously from his desk, where he was "reading" the paper. In truth, he secretly followed her movements from the top of his paper, eyes no more distracted by the headline screaming "Showgirls Coming To Central!", than by the black and white picture of several cabaret dancers lifting up ridiculously fluffy looking skirts.

Roy was focused today. He was a man with a plan.

"Good morning Colonel", she replied.

She came closer to the pencil.

Roy held his breath…

Closer still!

Roy watched, anxiously.

And closer yet she came!!!

And then, in a moment best described with the brilliantly accurate onomanapeoiaic word "thump", she tumbled to the floor.

"Oof!", Riza muttered eloquently, as she went down.

_A Perfect 10_!, thought Roy, as the coffee splashed all down Riza's front, completely drenching her navy blue, perfectly ironed, military issued jacket, her white, perfectly ironed, military issued shirt, and her navy blue, perfectly ironed, military issued pants. If Roy was any less of a man he'd have let his tongue roll out of his mouth and, if he was about to hit rock bottom, he'd have drooled. It was like a wet t-shirt contest right in the (semi) privacy of his own office. Not that Roy knew anything about wet t-shirt contests. He was a man of dignity.

"Riza?", he said, looking up from his paper. "Are you ok?"

It was more than obvious from his strange facial expression that he was putting forth maximum effort not to laugh. MAXIMUM EFFORT! Extreme effort! Amazing, superhuman effort, not to laugh.

Riza frowned miserably from the floor.

"Sir, I believe Elysia left her pencil here."

Roy got up from his desk and walked over to her, extending a hand to help her to her feet.

"So she has", Roy chuckled, and lifted her up. Riza rubbed her backside, and her frown deepened.

Roy looked down at her shirt.

Riza followed his eyes.

"What a mess", she mumbled, examining the damage done to her previously pristine uniform.

"I think mess right about sums it up", Roy replied.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I just ruined your coffee and the reports are just absolutely-"

"Don't worry Liutenant, I'm sure my coffee and those reports can be replaced."

Riza looked up him and he pulled a hankercheif, waaay too convientiently from his pocket and tried to wipe at the coffee stains on her shirt.

"Sir, with all due respect, you're fighting a losing battle", she said with a slight smile.

"You're right, Hawkeye."

"Sir, permission to clock out and go home and change", she said.

"Hawkeye, you don't have to-"

"Roy, I'm all wet and-"

Roy's mouth went dry and he momentarily forgot what was happening.

"Hawkeye, what I meant was that I keep extra uniforms in the closet. Just in case."

"You do sir? Excellent. Could I borrow one?"

"Of course, go right ahead."

The day went down in military history as the day Riza Hawkeye wore a mini-skirt, which was, coincidentally enough, the _only_ uniform Roy Mustang kept in the closet.

One might've thought he kept it there with this express purpose in mind.

But that just wouldn't be Roy.

After all, he was an upstanding military officer.

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**Concept One, Idea C**

**Title: The Anti-Coffee **

Roy sat miserably in his chair, paperwork done, watching the rain pour outside. He was wrapped in a blanket, his eyes blood-shot and red, waiting for his shift to be over. He'd come to work sick today, a bad idea, as it turned out.

His headache pounded, he felt feverish and his skin crawled with the occasional flurry of goosebumps when he shivered. The incessant chatter of his subordinates did nothing for his mood, and he ended up sending them skittering from the room with a few well placed expletives. Riza walked in just as they ran, tail tucked between their legs, from the room. She wisely chose to say nothing.

She set the enormous stack of paperwork on her desk and then left again, observing, unbeknownst to Roy, the tell-tale dark circles beneath his eyes. She returned, sometime later, with a pillbox and a steaming mug of something. She set the mug on his desk and brushed a cool hand against his forehead. He turned feverish eyes to her and smiled.

"You shouldn't get too close, you might catch what I have."

"Don't worry about it, sir", she said in return.

She opened the pill box and handed him two, twin, cream colored pills, which he popped in his mouth and swallowed. She then handed him the mug and he took a hesistant sip.

"What kind of coffee is this", he asked.

"Not coffee, sir. Hot chocolate."

"Riza, this'll put me to sleep."

"That is the point, sir."

Roy shot her a puzzled glance.

"What about the paperwork?"

"I'll make Havoc do it."

Roy grinned and sipped the hot chocolate again.

Outside, the rain poured with renewed vigor. Hawkeye made to walk toward he own desk, but stopped when Roy cleared his throat.

"If you really don't mind catching this thing", he began, and open his arms wide, exposing his lap, "maybe you could come sit with me."

Riza smiled softly and slipped onto his lap. It worked out rather well, Riza being quite tiny and the chair being quite large. He spun it so they could watch the rain fall against the window, Riza situating her head against his chest, Roy resting his against the high back of the chair.

Roy wrapped the blanket around them, and they dozed off.

* * *

And so...nothing but utter fluff of the most unadulterated kind. 

I hope you enjoyed it!


	2. CONCEPT TWO: REFLECTIVE SURFACES

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Lighthearted: A Series of Fortunate Events

* * *

Summary: In response to the overall misery I've been sensing from my peers recently, I've decided to write a series of fluff-tastic Royai one-shots/drabbles.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: ALTHO IT MIGHT BE MOST EXCELLENT TO OWN ROY, I DON'T. NOR DO I OWN ANY OF HIS FRIENDS OR ASSOCIATES.

* * *

Concept Two: Reflective Surfaces

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**Concept Two, Idea A**

**Title: Sleepover**

Riza tugged the shirt tighter, exposing (what she hoped to be) an ample amount of cleavage. She loosened her hold on the shirt and rearranged it to fit her baggily again. The shirt draped over her and she felt like she was playing dress-up in her father's military uniforms again.

She gave up on the shirt, letting it fall loosely around down to about mid-thigh, then tried to slip on a pair of draw-string pajama bottoms. She managed to get them up and tied, but the pant legs were rather long. She sighed at her reflection in the mirror. She gave up the clothes she was wearing, there was nothing she could do about them, and set about tying back her hair.

But today her hair wouldn't seem to cooperate with her. It kept falling out of the clip or not falling smoothly against her scalp.

Her frustration evident, she violently twisted it and it finally fell flat, although severely so, against her scalp.

"Easy there, Riza", Roy chuckled, and she spotted him (from his reflection in the mirror she was currently looking in) poking his head into the bedroom doorway. A good-natured grin stretched his face, and his eyes were amused at her sour temper.

"You look better with your hair down anyway, so don't worry about it."

Riza closed her eyes and let her hair down.

"By the way, I've got a smaller shirt in the drawer if you want it. The one you're wearing is big even on me."

* * *

**Concept Two, Idea B**

**Title: Spooning.**

Roy stared at his reflection in the spoon.

Then looked to Riza, who was diligently filing paperwork at her desk.

He looked at the spoon.

Then Riza.

The Spoon.

Riza.

Spoon.

Riza.

"Hey Riza?"

"Sir?"

"You think I can balance this on my nose?"

Chunks of plaster sprayed across the room and Roy ducked as the projectiles whizzed through the air. Another bullet hole decorated the wall just to the left of his head.

"With all due respect, _sir,_ she said through clenched teeth, "**GET TO WORK**!!!"

Roy quietly bent over to his work and began to scribble furiously. When he looked up again, a spoon was neatly balanced on Riza's nose.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

**Concept Two, Idea C**

**Title: Spooning, Part 2**

"Roy?", asked a nervous Riza, from over the top of a rather large spoon she was currently gazing in. "Is my nose big?"

"Absolutely", he said, and kissed her cheek.

She smacked him away.

"Really Roy! Is my nose big?"

Roy snatched the spoon from her and tilted her chin so he could closely examine her face. He turned it to the left, then slowly to the right.

"Hmm."

He tilted it back and squinted.

"Pout", he instructed.

Riza squinched her eyebrows and puckered her lips.

Roy stared at her lips for a second, then said,

"Absolutely", and kissed her full on.

* * *

**Concept Two, Idea D**

**Title: Candy Paint**

If Roy Mustang is proud of anything, its you. You takes good care of you, keeps you sheltered when it rains, shows you off to all his friends. He only takes you out on occasion though, and sometimes you're lonely. But all that is forgotten the second he opens the door to the room he keeps you in.

Tonight is just like that.

Tonight, he enters the room, flicks on the light and smiles so winningly at you that you've forgiven him for forgetting about you. You're eager, and ready, and willing to go, itching to have his fingers on you, directing you, steadying you, caressing you.

Tonight he takes you to the shore, sand warm and still, night sky glittering with winking stars, ocean oddly calm. He's brought another woman with him, but you don't mind because you've waited for so long just to be out with him. He's got a blanket under his arm and a smirk on his face, gruff voice washing softly over you. He wraps the towel around the other woman, walking with his arm slung low around her waist. You want to follow, but remain stationary, letting him lead her off.

Your red, candy paint glitters in the moonlight, the reflection of the walking couple distorted on your carefully shaped doors. Your headlights slowly go out, ensuring Roy and his blonde date privacy.

* * *

**Concept Two, Idea E**

**Title: Little Black Dress**

The reflective lens of the camera flashed in the weak light of the cozy apartment. Riza's shocked cry and a mountain of laughter sounded, the whole room getting warmer with Riza's indignant protests to the picture that had been taken. Roy hadn't attended this particular party (he had had a date) but everyone swore it was the best they had been to in years.

Maes Hughes had attended as photographer, and the picture was on the roll of film in his camera until days after he died. Gracia had been the one to discover the roll, and had taken it to be developed. When she saw the shots, particularly the last few, she burst into tears. She and little Elysia had attended that party with Maes, and remembered with surprising clarity the last shot on the roll, the one of Riza.

That night, when Roy had come over to help her with the things that Maes had usually done around the house, she showed him the picture. In a characteristically Roy moment, he had said nothing, his face betraying nothing, and slipped the picture into his coat pocket.

Everyday, Roy looked at the picture. It was nothing particularly special, no spectacular shot, just a quick snap of Riza Hawkeye taken in a dimly lit room, adjusting the strap on her shoes, the skirt of her little black dress pulled up mid-thigh. In the hand not adjusting her shoe she gripped a half-full glass of amber liquid.

Her face is tilted down, tiny wisps of hair escaping her elegant, loose bun.

She walked in on him one day, as he sat at his desk and stared at the photo, and he looked up quickly, a blush staining his usually pale cheeks.

"Close your mouth, sir, you're drooling", she said and he quickly shoved the photo in his pocket and set about looking busy.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART 2, DONE. Alittle short, I think. I'll make the next one longer. 


	3. CONCEPT THREE: QUOTE TOO LONG

* * *

Lighthearted: A Series of Fortunate Events

* * *

Summary: In response to the overall misery I've been sensing from my peers recently, I've decided to write a series of fluff-tastic Royai one-shots/drabbles.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: ALTHO IT MIGHT BE MOST EXCELLENT TO OWN ROY, I DON'T. NOR DO I OWN ANY OF HIS FRIENDS OR ASSOCIATES.

* * *

**Concept Three: "It's something I picked up out of boredom and am having trouble quitting."**

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**Concept Three, Idea A**

**Title: The Required Ishbal Reference **

_She's got a special ability, that Riza Hawkeye. _

_Wouldn't believe it on first sight- you sure didn't. _

_She's obviously, at first sight, pretty._

_Petite._

_Blonde._

_Young._

_You could get lost in the fact that she appeared to be no older than 20, had flawless, supple skin and redish-brown eyes that could stop a speeding train in it's tracks. When there's nothing but sand and unshaven, drawn faces to look at, she's an oasis in this godforsaken death trap. _

_But something's wrong with her picture, that's for damn sure._

_Somewhere in the shadows beneath her red-rimmed eyes and the tensed muscles of her clamped jaw-line, the nervous twitch of her fingers over the trigger of her beloved Cobalt, the pieces all fall together like a Jackson Pollock painting. _

_This is what you thought the first time you laid eyes on Riza Hawkeye, from the wrong end of the barrel of her gun, and you realized she was super-human. _

_There was just no other plausible explanation. _

_-_

"Take it easy there, soldier." Roy said with a smirk.

"My apologies, Major, I hadn't reali-"

"Not a problem, private," said Roy, waving off Hawkeyes apology. "Lord knows we're all a bit jumpy, this war will be the death of us, I swear."

"I would prefer if you not said that, sir. I personally would like to leave this place alive."

"And with an aim like that I don't doubt that you will", he replied with a slight smile.

There was already a sort of shock humming through the two of them for reasons neither could explain. Hawkeye lowered her gun and strapped it back in it's holster, then popped a cigarette between her lips and lit it up.

"Was there something you needed, sir?"

"Yes, actually," said Roy, tearing his eyes from the cigarette to look her in the eye. "I've been looking for a soldier to accompany me on a mission. I've heard your shot is damn near perfect. Thought I'd stop over and see if you were interested."

Hawkeye neatly removed the smoldering bud from her mouth to answer.

"Certainly sir, I'd be honored sir."

Mustang allowed his eyes to relax with her enthusiasm.

"Excellent. Briefing is tomorrow, but I would appreciate if you would accompany me back to the Colonel's tent so we can get the paperwork filled out."

"Of course sir."

Riza extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on her desk, and, back rigid, followed him outside the tent.

They were mere feet from the tent when Riza popped another cigarette in her mouth and was patting herself down with stiff hands. Roy stopped her.

"Allow me", he said with a cat's grin and snapped his fingers. A tiny flame rose out from where his fingers connected and she leaned over to allow the cigarette to catch flame.

"Thank you sir."

"Sure. That really is a disgusting habit you know, and at the rate your goin' enemy fire won't be what kills you."

"I know sir," Riza replied, her face expressionless. "It's something I picked up out of boredom and am having trouble quitting."

Roy understood. Time on the battlefield seemed brief compared to the time they spent waiting, watching, alert. Nights dragged by, quiet and still, panic still palpable in the air.

Riza took a long drag and sighed behind him as they passed a cluster of dirty tents. Her tent had been removed from the others (probably for Riza's personal safety, he realized) and was in impeccably neat order. All of her belongings were organized symmetrically on both sides of her cot; the lingering smell of burning tobacco and gunpowder burned his nostrils and altered permanently his idea of what a woman should smell like.

He turned back and waited for her to catch up, his eyes lingering slightly on the cigarette propped safely between her lips.

* * *

**Concept Three, Idea B**

**Title: Shiola!**

Mustang sighed into her ear, soft and low, as the sun rose early that morning. She was aware of every part of her body that touched his, aware, strikingly, beautifully aware, of every bit of warmth that seeped from his body to hers.

Her constant companion. Her constant. Her constant.

She stretched her legs and retangled them with his, her hand brushing baby soft fibers of black hair from his forhead. His face was still and relaxed, slumber leaving a healthly flush to his usual pale skin.

The orange glow from the sunrise painted a golden-gray array of shapes along their bodies, Riza's eye's flashing reflectively in the light.

The sweet sweat and tangled sheets kept them company.

Riza wasn't a good sleeper and was loathe to leave Roy alone in bed.

So Riza watched Roy when she couldn't sleep.

It's something she picked up out of boredom and was having trouble quitting.

* * *

**Concept Three, Idea C**

**Title: OOC, But Hell, IThought It Was Cute.**

Roy, throwing care to the wind, swooped down on his Luitenant as soon as Breda snapped the door shut behind him. A muffled "oof!" echoed in the near empty room, and Riza attempted to throw her commanding officer off, but to no avail.

"Sir," she gasped, as he grappled with the tedious amount of buttons of her jacket. "Sir, we've still got paperwork to do!"

"Lighten up _Elizabeth_, the project completion forms aren't due for another week. "And besides, you're crazy if you think you're getting away from me tonight-"

The door swung open slowly, unbeknownst to the two, and a smallish (but don't tell him that!) frame stood in the doorway, jaw landing to the ground with a thud.

Roy and Riza, too caught up with each other to notice the other presence in the room, continued on. Ed loudly cleared his throat.

Roy whipped around and faced a shocked Ed.

"WHAT THE FU-"

-

Just as Breda turned the key in his car, it backfired loudly, completely and conveniently drowning out anything said by anything for a millisecond.

"- IS GOING ON HERE!?", Ed shrieked.

-

Mustang quickly assessed the situation, and with as much decorum as he could manage, threw Riza over his shoulder, completely ignoring her loud protests, and trotted past Ed out the door.

"This is a hobby of mine, Ed!", he yelled, smirk situated firmly on his face. It's something I picked up out of boredom and am having trouble quitting!"

As Mustang faded from site, Ed rubbed his chin.

"A hobby, huh?"

* * *

**Concept Three, Idea D**

**Title: The Mother of All Questions**

"Sir?", Riza asked tentatively.

"Yuh", he grunted over his paperwork, eyes not straying from the page, where they skipped eratically over the words.

"Sir, I think we'll have to finish this at your place tonight, it's getting late."

Roy quietly nodded his agreement, careful not to raise his head and let anyone else see the wolfish grin on his face.

Havoc was just lighting a cigarette and he smelled the flame before he smelled the burning tobacco.

"Outside, Havoc", he ordered.

"You've got the be shitti-" Havoc began mumble.

"Is that insubordination I hear?"

A beat of silence rang through the room.

"No, sir, I just said I'm having trouble quitting."

Mustang looked at Riza, eyes softening as they traveled over her rigid form.

He knew the feeling.

* * *

**O.K., so. The concept was inspired by one of my friend's reasons for smoking, which we discussed a while back. His words ring through my head when I think about why people start to do the things they do. Addiction comes in many forms, and when Roy'n'Riza look at each other im sure they knows what I mean. :)**

**Special thanks are in order to my most gracious reviewers:**

Winglessfairy25, Tsunade-chan, Dailenna (x2!!), SweetAssassin, kiiroi yumetobu and words without !!!


	4. CONCEPT FOUR: EXTENDED METAPHORS

* * *

Lighthearted: A Series of Fortunate Events

* * *

Summary: In response to the overall misery I've been sensing from my peers recently, I've decided to write a series of fluff-tastic Royai one-shots/drabbles. Hopefully I'm successful, as fluff isn't my usual cup of tea.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: ALTHO IT MIGHT BE MOST EXCELLENT TO OWN ROY, I DON'T. NOR DO I OWN ANY OF HIS FRIENDS OR ASSOCIATES.

* * *

**Concept Four: Extended Metaphors.**

* * *

**Concept Four, Idea A**

**Title: Holy Lord, LAME.**

Roy Mustang can light a flame with the simple snap of his fingers. All he has to do is choose a victim and their fate is sealed. Roy's power is extraordinary, and everyone says he's brilliant at it.

But Roy's ability is just as dangerous as his job. Especially when he's in the presence of something highly unstable, something that might react with the slightest hint of heat (or, god forbid, friction!).

Something like…

Something like…

Something like gunpowder.

Roy ignites Riza's gunpowder, and when they're together… their fireworks light up the night.

* * *

**Concept Four, Idea B**

**Title: Where'd you go last night?**

"Hey boss." said Havoc as Roy joined him outside.

"Too nice a day to work.", he replied.

"Yeah. Where's Hawkeye?"

Roy shrugged.

"She had a rough night. Took the morning off."

Havoc frowned.

"That's not like her."

Roy stared off into the distance.

"Where'd you go last night?", asked Havoc, asked as he puffed at his cigarette.

Roy's pushed off the wall he had been leaning against.

"The track", he responded with unease. "Why?"

"You were out all night. We tried calling you last night about the murders in the overtown section, but you didn't pick up. We tried again this morning. Same deal."

Havoc threw down his cigarette and stomped it out. Roy relaxed.

"I didn't know you went to the races," said Havoc with interest.

"Usually I don't. Last night was an exception."

"You got a favorite?"

"Yeah, she's a real beauty."

Havoc sighed.

"I love watchin' 'em in action, really gets your heart pounding."

Roys eyes widened at the turn in conversation.

"Definitely."

"That sheen they get when the race is near over…" Havoc whistled long and low.

Mustang nodded in agreement.

"Those long legs and that beautiful neck…"

More nodding, a little more vigorously.

"I'm more of a mare man myself, but a big, strong mustang is -"

"STOP!" cried Mustang.

"Wha's'amatta boss?"

"I don't want to know about that!!"

"Wha? Wha'd I say?"

* * *

**Concept Four, Idea C**

**Title: Where'd you go last night?, Part 2**

"Hey boss." said Havoc as Roy joined him outside.

"Too nice a day to work.", he replied.

"Yeah. Where's Hawkeye?"

Roy shrugged.

"She had a rough night. Took the morning off."

Havoc frowned.

"That's not like her."

Roy stared off into the distance.

"Where'd you go last night?", asked Havoc, asked as he puffed at his cigarette.

Roy's pushed off the wall he had been leaning against.

"Ate out", he said, and walked back inside.

* * *

**Concept Four, Idea D**

**Title**: **"You what? Riza, you turned the oven off, you can take the bun out in the morning. It's not like we can't afford more bread"**

"Roy?"

"Mmm."

"Roy, wake up."

"Mmmwwhaassmada'?"

"Roy, I need to tell you something."

"Rizza, I godda' be up a' eight."

"I know, but this is important."

Roy sat up in bed at looked down at her with bleary, sleepy eyes.

"What?"

"I think I…"

She'd been waiting a week to say this. She practiced. She could do this.

No reason to be nervous. Roy _said_ that he _had_ wanted-

"Riza, really, I have to sleep."

"Roy I think I have a bun in my oven.", she said tentatively.

Roy stared at her disbelievingly.

"You what? Riza, you turned the oven off, you can take the bun out in the morning. It's not like we can't afford more bread."

"ROY!", she said, shocked.

"What?!"

"I HAVE A BUN IN MY OVEN!"

"SO GET IT OUT IN THE MORNING! I DON'T SEE WHAT THE BIG DEAL IS!"

"I'M FU-"

Outside, a vagrant kicked over a trashcan as he searched for a meal. The sound of the crash echoed off the walls of the house Riza and Roy shared, blocking out anything anyone might have said for exactly one second.

"-ING PREGNANT!"

There was silence for a moment, and the homeless man, afraid he'd been seen by the quarreling couple, scrambled off.

"Oh."

Riza breathed deeply.

"Oh", said Roy again.

"Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you ok with this? I mean, I-"

"Riza, don't take the bun out of the oven in the morning", he said, and leaned over and kissed her. She kissed back, relieved and excited all at once.

One thing lead to another, and Roy was late for his early meeting the next morning. He walked in, disheveled and grinning like he was mad, mumbling something about ovens and buns.

* * *

**A VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**A VERY VERY SPECIAL THANKS TO DALIENNA, WHO LEFT ME A LONG REVIEW WITH SOME VERY GOOD CRITICISM. **

**READING THROUGH THE CHAPTERS I'VE WRITTEN, I REALIZED I MADE A LOT OF CARELESS MISTAKES I SHOULD'VE CAUGHT, EXCEPT I WAS WRITING VERY FAST AND DIDN'T BOTHER TO SPELLCHECK, OR CHECK MY FACTS FOR THAT MATTER, AND I SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SUCH A LAZY-ASS. WITH THESE THOUGHTS IN MIND, I WENT BACK AND EDITED THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. **

**THANKS FOR CATCHING ME DALIENNA, YOUR HELP WAS GREATLY APPRECIATED!!**

:D

By the way Dalienna- I myself am anti-smoking as well, but have a thing for the symbolism smoking lends. It tends to come out in my writing. :/

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My other wonderful reviewers, winglessfairy25, otaku dreamer, SweetAssassin and stephythegreat, thank you for taking time to read and review my story, your reviews were the fuel that kept this train a'rollin' !!!!!

* * *

Inspiration for this chapter was provided by a comment a friend made to me in chemistry today (yes, I have class on Saturday). She said that all science is just a metaphor for human relationships, and the longer our 3 hour class stretched, the more ridiculously humorous (and true!) her statement became.


	5. CONCEPT FIVE: SUNNY, CHANCE OF SHOWERS

**A QUICK BUT NECESSARY AUTHOR'S NOTE: MY SPECIAL 5TH ANNIVERSARY CHAPTER WILL INCLUDE SOME SCENES NOT INTENDED FOR CHILDREN. NOW MIGHT BE THE TIME TO RUN AND HIDE IF YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF A CHILD. **

**DON'T WORRY, ILL GIVE YOU FAIR WARNING BEFORE ANYTHING LEMONY POPS UP.**

**I WILL NOT POST THIS WARNING AGAIN IN FUTURE CHAPTERS, JUST TAKE FOR GRANTED THAT THERE COULD BE MATURE CONTENT.**

* * *

Lighthearted: A Series of Fortunate Events

* * *

Summary: In response to the overall misery I've been sensing from my peers recently, I've decided to write a series of fluff-tastic Royai one-shots/drabbles. Hopefully I'm successful, as fluff isn't my usual cup of tea.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: ALTHO IT MIGHT BE MOST EXCELLENT TO OWN ROY, I DON'T. NOR DO I OWN ANY OF HIS FRIENDS OR ASSOCIATES.

* * *

**_WARNING: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD. ANYTHING WITH A RATING ABOVE "T" WILL HAVE !!! IN THE TITLE. _**

_**ONE ! FOR MILD.**_

_**TWO ! FOR NOT SO MILD.**_

_**THREE ! FOR MUY CALIENTE.**_

**_COMPRENDE?_**

* * *

Concept Five: Sunny With A Chance of Showers.

* * *

**Concept Five, Idea A** ! 

**Title: Inclement Weather **

I suppose it's common knowledge that Roy dislikes rain of any kind. Roy's best time is during droughts, when the land is parched and starving. It's when his alchemy functions best, and he feels the most confident.

He _does_ have a rather hard time during the rainy season. Tends toward apathy and depression, and not just because the humid air neutralizes the effects of his alchemy. Roy hates the constant patter of water. It's a incessant annoyance, and the air becomes too heavy for him to breathe, causing almost incurable migraines. With Roy, April showers bring headaches and glowers.

When the rain is pouring by the bucket outside, Roy's favorite part of the day is coming home.

Today is no different. He comes in through the front door, soaked and miserable. His hair hangs in his face and drips water onto his nose, where it rolls off and falls on the carpet, leaving wet marks. Roy is frowning, mouth stretched down and his eye a thin slash of displeasure. I nearly snicker when I see him so petulant, and come to the doorway to greet him.

"Someone's had a rain cloud following them all day, huh?"

Roy grunts his response, and I help him remove his jacket, which is soaked and heavy. He turns around to remove his boots and an idea strikes me.

What always makes Roy's day? I smirk.

I stop him by grabbing his arm, and turn him back around. He stands there, questioning half-smile on his face, when I get on my hands and knees and begin to untie his boots. I can't see his face, but knowing Roy, his half-smile has probably faded into a lustful grin.

I finish the first boot, lift his leg a bit, and remove it. I mimic my actions with the next boot, then stand up and press myself to him, his drenched white button up shirt leaving wet patches on my own shirt.

"Welcome home." I whisper and press my lips lightly to his. His hands come to rest comfortably on my hips, pulling me closer, and simultaneously wetting the front of my pajama shorts and t-shirt.

"I love those shorts", he says when we break apart, wet hand sliding down to rub my thigh, leaving a cold chill to take the place of where his hand had once been. He brings his hand back up again to my hip where he suddenly pulls me closer to him.

His wet hair leaks down his neck and my gaze follows the path of one of the more adventurous drops, sliding down the side of his neck and disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

Outside, the rain continued to pound the house. According to the paper the next morning, a record seven inches had fallen. Roy didn't notice. I made sure of that.

* * *

**Concept Five, Idea B** !! 

**Title: The Desperate HouseWives **

"She's got the best garden in the neighborhood, that Riza Mustang does."

"I wonder how she does it."

A quiet laugh.

"What?"

"_I_ know how she does it."

A snicker.

"What? What's going on?"

"You wanna know how she does it?"

"She says she uses good fertilizer"

Two women laugh loudly, one remains quiet and confused.

"Hey, c'mon, tell me! What's the big joke about?"

"Go on Marlene, tell her what you saw."

"No, no, I'm no good at these things, you tell her Penny. You and Dawn caught them one time."

"Caught who?"

"C'mon Marlene, you were the one that caught them first."

"Oh fine, I'll tell her. It happened as I was walking back from Janet's house last Tuesday…"

-

Riza was busy watering the plants surrounding the southwest corner of the house she lived in with Roy when she felt a pair of hands slide around her waist.

"Hey you," she said, and straightened up. She dropped the watering can and twisted around in Roy's arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

-

"-and that's when I peaked over the fence, just to, you know, say hi."

"What'd you see?"

"Shh! I'm getting to that!"

"So I heard them talking and peaked over the fence, and just in time too…"

-

"Hey you yourself," he said when she pulled away. His eye was alight with something Riza could only call mischief and he pressed his lips to hers.

Above them, the sunlight softened as the glowing orb was hidden by a cloud. Roy teased her mouth open, tongue sliding in and twisting with hers. She felt her skin prickle with sudden warmth, her feet slid out of her sandals and she grounded herself in the cool grass. Roy slid a cool hand up her shirt and along her spine. She shivered involuntarily.

She pulled away.

"No fair", she mumbled. "You did that on pur-"

Roy smirked and kissed her again, effectively cutting her off mid-sentence.

Roy's other hand manipulated the buttons on her shirt, exposing Riza's bare stomach to the cool breeze. The sun peeked out again, the bright light leaving spots dancing behind Riza's closed eyelids.

"Roy", she whispered, "we can't- not out here. The neighbors will-"

"That's the point", he whispered and crushed her to him again.

He pulled her shirt off and they tumbled onto the grass, Roy's arms planted firmly on either side of Riza's head.

He kissed the bare expanse spread before him, laving Riza's bellybutton, causing her to giggle.

Roy smiled against her warm skin, and looked up at her, eye wild with humor and lust. Above them, the clouds rolled gently across the sky, white puffs hanging like interrupted sentences in the crisp spring air.

"You're wearing my favorite bra."

Riza blushed. Roy's favorite bra, which she was indeed wearing, hooked the in front. Roy didn't have to fiddle with the hook to get it open, he could easily pop it open with a flick of his thumb and index finger. He did so with relish.

"Holy lord, Riza," he moaned, a gentle hand sliding up to tease her nipple. She sighed, eyes slipping shut in pleasure…

-

"And what happened next?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, did they-"

"Of course! But I didn't stick around!"

Both women shot her a dark look.

"What? Really, I didn't. I left after that."

One woman snorted.

"Please Marlene. Don't try that with us. I'm sure you remember the time when Cheryl was with Mike the pool guy and-"

"Oh alright, alright, I did stay, but not _that _long after… I left after the sprinklers turned on. There's only so much a woman can take."

"And did they-"

"Yes, right there out in the open."

"Even with the sprinklers-"

"Yup. Like they didn't even notice."

"_No!_ They didn't!"

"Oh yes, they did."

"Holy lord! I didn't know they had it in them!"

"So straight-laced."

"Mmm."

"Who would've guessed?"

"Scandalous."

"Absolutely."

* * *

**Concept Five, Idea C**

**Title: Thunderstorm**

Roy pressed his lips to Riza's just as thunder crashed outside.

She pulled away, laughing.

"What?"

"Did you plan that?"

"What?"

"The kiss?"

"No, it was executed in a moment of wild abandon," he said sarcastically. Outside, the rain picked up and hit the side of their window with a loud pattering.

"No, no, I mean, did you plan for it to coincide with the thunder?"

"How would I do that?"

"I dunno, you're an alchemist. You're privy to all kinds of godly knowledge."

Riza could see Roy quirk an eyebrow through the darkness and she shifted nervously in the sheets.

"Godly knowledge?"

Roy laughed and snuggled down with her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Riza could feel vibrations from his laughter through his chest.

"Hey, how am I supposed to know what you-"

Outside, thunder crashed again.

There was silence for moment.

"Did you plan that?", asked Roy.

Riza swatted at him.

"Oh shut up."

* * *

**Concept Five, Idea D**

**Title: Not A Problem At All **

"Sorry I'm late sir, the rain-"

"Not a problem Hawkeye, I-"

Roy stopped when he looked up from the weekend drill report he was filling out and his mouth went dry.

Riza was peeling off her sodden jacket, and her white, button up shirt underneath was completely soaked, but more importantly, it was practically transparent.

Roy was about to suggest she borrow his extra uniform, but, with a decidedly devious smirk on his face, he decided against it.

* * *

a/n: sexually charged. there. i CAN write (sort of) smut. HA! 


	6. CONCEPT SIX: LOSS OF

**I would like to apologize to my readers for not updating**, but in my defense its been a harrowing couple of weeks. Between portfolio day (think high stakes career day, with the school visitors having a severe attitude problem, as well as having your future in the palm of their hands), a car crash, my midterm exams, my new art concentration pieces, some disturbingly too close to home violence, and having the flu, im sure you can understand why this little series has not been updated. ANYWHO!

Onward!

* * *

**Lighthearted: A Series of Fortunate Events**

* * *

Summary: In response to the **overall misery** I've been sensing from my peers recently, I've decided to write a series of fluff-tastic Royai one-shots/drabbles. Hopefully I'm successful, as fluff isn't my usual cup of tea.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: ALTHO IT MIGHT BE MOST EXCELLENT TO OWN ROY, I DON'T. NOR DO I OWN ANY OF HIS FRIENDS OR ASSOCIATES.

* * *

**CONCEPT 6: Loss of...**

* * *

_**Concept 6, Idea A**_

_**Warning Level-!**_

_**Title: The Lord Giveth And The Lord Taketh Away**_

"Elizabeth?"

She lifted her head up as she heard her name being called from the opposite end of the farmhouse. She paused in the midst of her activity, getting up from her splay-legged seated position on the floor.

"Elizabeth? Riza, could you come here for a moment?"

She sighed and stood, loathe to leave the gun she was dismantling. She trudged to her father's study, head hung and scowling.

Her footsteps sounded lonely in the almost empty house, echoing loudly up the long hall and into the various rooms connected to it. She paused a moment outside her parents bedroom.

"Riza? Riza did you hear me?"

"I'm right here," she said, and left the doorway of her parents bedroom to push open the door of her dad's study. She paused just short of entering until her dad beckoned her in and motioned her to take a seat. She did, and looked around uncomfortably, fiddling with the straps of her dirty overalls.

"Riza, I've got some news."

Riza glanced up at her father and studied his weary features. Bright brown eyes sparkled from underneath his heavy brows and his thin lips were pursed with severity.

"Riza, we've had some extra space in the house for a while now…and I was offered a great deal of money to-"

He looked away here, embarrassed by his confession of money as a motive.

"-teach a young man some alchemy. He'll be staying here for a while, and he'll be taking the room I had shared with your mother before she passed on."

Her father paused to draw breathe.

" So, I'll be moving into the guest room…"

-

Riza's lungs felt crushed as she trudged from the house and down the dirt road. Her hands hung loosely in her pockets and she fiddled idly with the small coin she had in there. She stared out at the line the trees made against the sky, dark shapes like hulking shadows against the backdrop of a setting sun.

She had just enough time, she figured, to make it to town and get a soda and get back before dark.

In the distance, she could hear the soft pound of hooves and the rumble of a cart. A soft breeze brushed by and the hair that had escaped her makeshift braid blew against her face. She pushed it back and felt the moisture that had collected in the heat. Her skin felt sticky and warm in the late summer air, and her clothes, quite suddenly, felt uncomfortable.

She rounded a bend in the road and could see the cart she had heard earlier in the distance. She squinted and tried to get a better look, but was distracted by a movement in the bushes to her left.

Her head whipped around just a flying projectile grazed her leg. She dropped down to inspect the damage and distinctly heard muttering.

"Johnny you cant aim for shit."

"Shut up, asswipe, she moved."

She heard a grunt and another missile flew her way. She tried to dodge it, but it struck her kneecap this time and she shrieked in pain.

"Fuckin' aim higher!", one said.

"Johnny Goyle and Gregory Mathers, that best not be you or I'll fuckin' beat you to a pulp!" she yelled angrily. She grabbed the nearest stone and hurled it into the bushes, and was rewarded with a yelp from one of her attackers.

"Little bitch!", Johnny cursed.

"Fuck rocks, lets get her!"

Riza's heart pounded in her head and turned tail and ran as fast as she could. The two boys chasing her were the town trouble makers, and she'd been their target for the past year. Two more vicious boys couldn't be found, and they'd been at her worse since she jumped Johnny after school and kicked his ass.

"We're gonna' kill you, you little bitch!", Gregory called as they chased her.

Riza wondered, not for the first time, how this little "war" of theirs started, and why they had picked her as a target in the first place. She began to pant harshly, her legs flying over the uneven road.

Another rock flew past her head and she heard Gregory yelling.

"JOHNNY YOU CANT FUCKIN' AIM, LEMME DO IT!"

The pounding feet slowed up a bit and a split second later a rock hit her square in the back of her head. She went down, face hitting the rough soil, tiny rocks pressing into her cheek. She twisted around and scrambled quickly to her feet just as the two boys jumped on her.

She elbowed Johnny as he attacked from behind, catching him, to her immense satisfaction, in the gut. Gregory landed a blow to her upper stomach before she could defend herself and she bent over in pain. Gregory made to kick her in the face, but she managed to hobble away before he could do any serious damage/

She straighted and kneed Gregory where she _knew_ it would hurt. He clutched himself and fell over. Riza went to kick him, but sneered and decided against it. She had honor.

Unfortunately for her, Johnny didn't. He grabbed her from behind and had her on the ground before she could fight back. He landed a blow to her side with his booted foot, and Gregory, who had since staggered to his feet puckered his face and made to spit on her, but before he could he was spinning backward and falling over again. Riza noticed but had no time to consider this as Johnny struck her again. Riza quickly rolled onto her side, protecting her stomach.

"Greg, man, who the fuck is that?"

Gregory, who was bleeding freely from a split lip, looked decidedly worse for wear. He didn't have time to answer because a rather good looking black haired boy landed a swift uppercut to his jaw and Greg's head snapped back.

That was it for Gregory. He fell backward and scrambled up, then began to run away awkwardly, still sore in a vital area.

"Hey you fag, get back here!", cried Johnny as he ran after his fleeing friend. "We'll be back for you Riza Hawkeye, and we'll fucking tear you up next time!"

The black haired boy smirked and offered Riza his hand, his eyes sparkling with something Riza couldn't quite place.

"Riza, I assume?"

"Yeah", Riza said as she accepted his hand. "Thanks."

"No problem. You know those guys?"

It was Riza's turn to smirk this time.

"You could say that."

The boy laughed, his eyes never leaving Riza.

"Name's Mustang," he said. "But you can call me Roy. You wouldn't happen to be related to Jonathan Hawkeye would you?"

"He's my dad, why?"

"I need to speak with him, and I'm not sure where I can find hi-"

"I'll take you," she answered, a little _too_ eagerly, and flushed.

Roy smiled at her.

"Alright, lead the way!"

He helped her into his cart, hopped onto the bench next to her, and snapped the reins.

"So who were those guys?," he asked.

The cart began to rumble down the road, but Roy wasn't looking at the scenery. He stared at Riza while she explained her situation with Johnny and Gregory. She told him most of the story, starting with the teasing and how it had escalated to actual violence.

"It not right", he said with a frown.

"What's not?," she asked. "It's not like I can't fight back.

"Maybe…", he started, "Maybe I was just brought up differently. Where I come from, men aren't supposed to hit women."

Riza stared at him.

"Well, its like that here too. It's just- I guess, I dunno, I'm not really that much of a girl am I?"

"Not much of a girl?!", Roy choked as his eyes swept over her. "Holy lord, do you have a mirror in you house?"

Riza's cheeks were stained red as they pulled up close to her house.

"Pull in here", she said meekly, and pointed at her farmhouse.

They did and when Roy helped Riza down from the carriage she blushed so hard she had to look down, afraid Roy might see. She lead him up the front steps and into the kitchen, where she sat him down with a cool glass of water.

"I'll go get my dad," she said when she had him settled. She made to walk past him, but he grabbed her wrist and whipped her around to face him.

"I'll be seeing a lot of you, won't I?," he said, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

-

As Riza smirked at her memory, she mentally answered the Roy she remembered from her childhood.

"More than you know, Roy, more than you know."

* * *

_**Concept 6, Idea B**_

_**Title: M.I.A**_

_**Warning Level: (none)**_

If Colonel Fuery had known what would happen, he wouldn't have gotten out of bed that morning. As it was he had been seriously considering that option anyway.

The Fuhrer was attempting to pass a whole slew of new laws, most of which pertained to the reconstruction of the country and government. This was all fine and dandy, it was the paperwork that went along with it that was cruel and unusual. He could almost understand why the new Fuhrer had bemoaned paperwork as much as he had when he had been just a Colonel.

And speaking of the former Colonel…

Fuery groaned aloud and covered his face with his hands. Oh, if only he had known what would happen!

Why hadn't he just waited to get Fuhrer Mustang's signature? Why couldn't he have knocked?!

It's not like he could've known that they would be- But still, his mother always told him never to enter a room with a closed door unless he knocked and now he knew why.

What he had walked in on was unbelievably sweet, but personal in the deepest respect. He felt violated by unwittingly becoming the violator of their moment. With just the simple action of twisting a doorknob he had ruined the tail-end of… whatever they had been up to. He poked his head in and the first thing he noticed, strangely enough, was not that Riza's blue military jacket was flung across the room, not her shoes lying forgotten next to her desk, and it certainly wasn't that Riza's now very long hair was loose and hanging in a pretty cascade of blonde down her back. No, no, the first thing Fuery noticed as he entered the room was that Riza's gun and holster was M.I.A. _(A/N: if you dont know what that means, see bottom note.)_

The proud black pouch and silver glint of cool metal was nowhere to be seen.

So shocked was he that he spoke without thinking.

"Hey Riza where's your-"

It was then that he noticed Roy, and, more importantly, what Roy was doing. The same fingers that had obliterated a city were gently, lovingly, pressing the buttons on Riza's white blouse back into their respective button holes. Neither of his superior officers looked up from their activity, but Riza did blush a deep shade of pink.

"Whatever it is Fuery," began Roy with an odd look in his eyes, "it can wait."

( M.I.A.- Missing In Action, a term used when a soldier- or his remains- cannot be found after a battle or war. Commonly now used as slang for anything lost or, _heh heh_, **missing** when you need it.)

* * *

_**Concept 6, Idea C**_

_**Warning Level- !!!**_

_**Title: Notes From The Underground**_

"Where is that little bastard!," Riza cursed as she fumbled through the magazines and books on the bookshelf.

"You called?", said Roy as he popped his head into the room.

Riza whipped around to face him.

"Where's my copy of 'Notes from the Underground'?

Roy grinned.

"Check the second shelf."

Sure enough, Riza found her copy of the book and plopped down on the couch. She had had a hellish day, and the only thing that sounded good right now was a nice, long trip into a book. Roy, it seemed, had the same idea. He snuggled up next to her, his own book in hand, and began to read. Occasionally his arm would brush against her shoulder as he idly played with a tendril of a plant growing in a pot behind the couch.

The sunlight from the open window in front of them leaked languidly through the white curtain, pooling on the floor in front of them and warming up the whole flat. The light heated Riza's flesh, and her cheeks flushed pink. Roy leaned in closer to her, his head now resting on her shoulder and dropped his book. Riza looked over at him, and noted without surprise that he seemed to have tired of his book and was preparing for a nap.

"You can put your head on my lap if you want," she said quietly.

"I'm ok where I am," he said, and rubbed her leg. Roy's hand was hot even against her own warm flesh.

Riza found, as she read on, that her own eyelids began to droop. She tried to read for just a bit longer, reluctant to give in to the sleep she knew she needed, but eventually her drowsiness won out and she found herself marking her page and closing her book and slipping it beside her...

As it is with all things when you're over-tired, she responded awkwardly and alarmingly late to the plant tendrils that had suddenly captured her wrists. Roy smirked against her shoulder and she growled deep in her throat in frustration.

"Roy what the-"

"Time released transmution", he whispered.

Riza groaned. Roy was so smug about his discovery. It was genius, Riza had to admit, but it was moments like this that tarnished the brilliance of his innovation. The plant pulled her wrists higher toward where they had anchored themselves on the ceiling until her arms were stretched straight upward, and Roy left her side on the couch to kneel in front of her.

Riza's mind was already jumping to conclusions.

"You wouldn't dare", she hissed and narrowed her eyes.

Roy simply smirked and Riza tugged fruitlessly at her bonds. She could feel Roy's hands sliding gently up her thighs and underneath her skirt. Her leg muscles tensed and unwittingly she opened her legs wider. Roy slid between her opened knees and pulled her forward on the couch.

"Roy Mustang you better not-"

She was silenced when he reached up and pressed his lips to hers, awkward at first because of his smirk, but more heated and natural as his lips played gently against hers. It was the same old dance, Riza thought, only this time it had a new spin. Her arms relaxed and allowed themselves to remain comfortably suspended from the plant tendrils.

Roy pushed her skirt upward, revealing her thighs. He ran his hands along the exposed skin tenderly.

"You have beautiful legs", he breathed.

He pulled her further forward until she was on the very edge of the cushion and snagged the sides of her panties with his index fingers, and with one fluid motion slid them down her legs and off over her feet. He tossed the offending article of clothing his shoulder. His eyes glittered mischievously. Riza rolled her eyes.

"A bit overdone, don't you think?," she whispered.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said jokingly.

He wrapped his hands around her legs, about mid-calf, and kissed the inside of her right knee. He trailed his tongue upward and Riza shivered. Her eyelids slipped down until they were almost closed, and she had to take a few shuddering breaths to calm herself down.

Her efforts were wasted. Seconds later Roy lightly nipped the soft flesh of her inner thigh and all coherent thought was lost on her.

"Oh-," she whispered softly.

He suckled the skin and laved it with his tongue, seeming to apologize for his earlier brutalization of it.

He moved upward with a trail of kisses and spread her knees wider.

"Oh-," she whispered again.

He moved his hands on the inside of each knee and held them there. Without further ado, he plunged his tongue inside her and she yelped. She could feel him smiling against her sensitive flesh. She could give it no more thought, though, because his tongue lapped against her roughly and she bucked against him. His nose hit her clit and she yelped again. Roy moved his hands upward to hold her hips in place.

"Shh," he said simply and kissed her clit. The contact of his lips there made her jump and try to press harder against him, but he held her hips firmly in place and murmured things Riza couldn't quite hear.

"You ass," she hissed.

He kissed her clit again, then licked it. Riza's mind went blank.

"You like that?," he murmured. All she could do tug at the bindings on her wrist and curse with a colorful variety of words.

Roy chuckled.

"You kiss your husband with that mouth?," he breathed.

"Yeah", she moaned, then grit her teeth. "And the dirty bastard likes it."

Roy laughed again. Sweat trickled down Riza's temple and back while the temperature in the room rose.

"Please," she murmured. "Please Roy."

"But I thought you didn't want me to," he teased.

"Please", she whispered again. She needn't have asked. Roy moved his mouth towards her again, and suckled her clit. She squeezed her eyes shut.

He quickly established a steady rhythm with his tongue. Riza could count the beat in her own mind and wondered whether Roy had ever tried his hand at music or poetry. She could feel herself tensing and relaxing rhythmically, her muscles clenching deliciously and relaxing into a anticipatory anxiety. Her breathing grew louder and more labored.

Roy slowed his pace, trying to drag the evitable out for as long as possible, but the simple fact is that Riza never really did have great endurance during these kinds of things and found herself groaning as she came. With a loud snap, the vine around her wrist broke and she slumped backward, her body a jittery mass of tortured nerves.

She breathed heavily and tried to regain herself.

Roy smiled from between her legs and joined her on the couch, pulling her onto his chest as he lay down. She shivered as he smoothed down her skirt again.

She kissed him lightly and he was about to deepen the kiss when she pulled away.

"What?," he asked.

Now it was her turn to smirk.

"Your turn," she whispered and slipped the limp extent of vine around Roy's wrists.

* * *

_**Concept 6, Idea D**_

_**Warning Level: (none)**_

_**Title: A Trip Into The Country**_

"Why Riza, you seem to have lost your hairclip", murmured Roy as he removed the offending contraption from her hair. He threw it over his shoulder and threaded his fingers through her hair. She tilted her face back and met his gaze.

"Well, I'll be dammed," she responded softly, moving her face closer to Roy's until there lips were almost touching. Overhead the sun shinned dully, and rain that had collected in the enormous heads of the sunflowers that inhabited the field they were standing (cuddling?) in fell on their heads when the cool breeze blew. Goosebumps raised on Riza's arms and she shivered, pressing herself more fully into Roy.

He kissed her then, soft grass beneath their feet, wide expanse of sky above.

* * *

_**Concept 6, Idea E**_

_**Title: The Mission**_

_**Warning Level-!**_

Roy Mustang watched Riza as she watched her target through the scope. Riza's body was a tight corkscrew of tension, her finger glued to the trigger.

The breeze from the rooftop was strong, and even so he knew Riza, his Riza, could make the hit. Her hair blew softly in the breeze and she readjusted her stand slightly to get a better angle. The long sniper's rifle seemed an actual physical extension of Riza. Another limb. Another sense. Another part of her dynamic set of talents.

She locked in on the target and brought herself forward just a little, slightly widening the angle at which her thighs opened. Her neck seemed longer, Roy noted, when her hair was back. Her pale skin glistened with nervous sweat, she licked her lips, moistening them. The tops of her breasts brushed the bottom of the scope's turning dial. She opened her thighs a little wider now, for better balance, and curved her spine in toward the gun, arching slightly.

This was the most erotic thing he had seen in his entire life, and Riza was fully clothed.

Roy lost his focus on the task at hand and knew it would come back to bite him in the ass. But quite frankly my dear readers, right now he just didn't give a damn.

* * *

_**Concept 6, Idea F**_

_**Title: Friction**_

_**Warning Level: (none)**_

Roy laughed heartily as he opened cabinet door after cabinet door.

"Who knew?", he asked breathlessly.

"Who knew what?", grumbled Riza as she rummaged through the drawers.

"That the only food you kept in your house was cheerios!", responded Roy, and he laughed harder, his deep baritone voice filling the tiny kitchen.

"Cool it, _sir_. As I remember, you only keep frosted flakes in yours."

Roy stopped laughing and mumbled something Riza couldn't hear.

"Find any matches yet?", he asked her.

"No."

"What kind of an idiot looses their matches on the coldest night of the year?", asked Roy petulantly, thinking of the frozen log they had left on the hearth.

"The same kind of idiot that leaves their ignition gloves at home on the coldest night of the year", said Riza through gritted teeth.

Roy sighed and grabbed Riza's wrist.

"I have a better idea than a fire", he said. Riza's teeth chattered and she hugged herself.

"And what's that, sir?"

Roy grinned wolfishly.

"Friction."

* * *

_**Concept 6, Idea G**_

_**Warning Level: (none)**_

_**Title: Some Semblance of Equivalent Exchange**_

Roy sighed and rubbed Riza's belly gingerly.

"As you sow-," began Riza in a soft voice.

"-so shall you reap," he finished, and placed a kiss on the rounded protrusion.

He pulled the covers over them and thought longingly of the future.

He might have lost the Fuhrership, he might have lost his youth, he might have lost an eye, but he gained something far more valuable.

He wrapped a possessive arm around Riza and snuggled closer to her. His. His. _His_.

* * *

_**Concept 6, Idea H**_

_**Warning Level: (none)**_

_**Title: What's-Her-Name and Why Her Friday Sucked.**_

Mustang's lip twitched as he penned a short report on the weekly activities of his men, just one of many reports he would have to complete before he left for home this evening. Decidedly better things waited for him at home (his bed), and even better things waited for him later that night (his date) and _even_ better things awaited him after that (a combination of his bed _and_ his date). But for now, he was stuck in the office.

Outside, the leaves rustled happily in the trees as a langorous autumn breeze blew through the courtyard. A rush of air escaped his own lips, a reluctant sigh, and he signed off on the report and filed it in the out-box for Riza to pick up. Roy pushed back in his chair and brought his hand to his head, brushing his black hair from his face.

Riza approached his desk and picked up the reports from out of the box.

"We might just go home on time tonight, sir." Riza said as she flipped through the finished reports in Roy's outbox. Roy looked up to her face as her eyes scanned the pages.

Riza left the side of his desk, her heels making quiet clicks on the wooden floor as she walked away. Time slowed for a moment as Roy's eyes traveled down her slender figure. The clock ticked loudly, and a paper slipped from Riza's pile.

Riza clucked in annoyance and bent over to pick up the paper, giving Roy a most entertaining view. And just like that, all of Roy's drive to finish early was lost. It stood to reason that the longer he stayed in the office, the more chance he had of witnessing anothing moment like he had just seen.

As she left the office, he picked up the phone, already planning his excuse for canceling his date with what's-her-name.

"Damn", he thought.

"What _was_ her name?", he said aloud.

* * *

Whew. That's the longest chapter yet! **Sorry for the late update!**


	7. CONCEPT SEVEN: HESITATION

So, ok. I have an idea for novel length fic and I think I'm going to start on it as soon as I finish this series. With this in mind, I set my plans for a final chapter, Chapter 10, and will begin work on finishing this fic up this week or sometime next week, as my schedule allows.

Anyway, Onward…

* * *

Lighthearted: A Series of Fortunate Events

* * *

Summary: In response to the overall misery I've been sensing from my peers recently, I've decided to write a series of fluff-tastic Royai one-shots/drabbles. Hopefully I'm successful, as fluff isn't my usual cup of tea.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: ALTHO IT MIGHT BE MOST EXCELLENT TO OWN ROY, I DON'T. NOR DO I OWN ANY OF HIS FRIENDS OR ASSOCIATES.

* * *

Concept 7: Hesitation

* * *

**Concept 7, Idea A**

**Title: Battle Prayer (Riza)**

The population of the battlefield split like the Red Sea: an opening to pursue without hesitation.

Let the shrapnel fly. Let the sky cloud over with smoke.

Let the smell of burning flesh and gun powder burn my nostrils.

I will not give pause to thought or fear.

I move onward, come hell or high water,

gun in hand,

by my Colonel's side.

* * *

**Concept 7, Idea B**

**Title: Battle Prayer (Roy)**

The population of the battlefield split like the Red Sea: an opening to pursue without hesitation.

Let the shrapnel fly. Let the sky cloud over with smoke.

Let the smell of charred bodies and burning wood surround me, it will not deter me.

Let their eyes flash white with fear, my own stay focused.

Let their guns spray the dirt around me; the bullets will not turn me from my path.

I will move onward,

Fingers raised and ready,

My Lieutenant, My Riza,

By my side.

* * *

**Concept 7, Idea C**

**Title: Hypothetical**

Hypothetically Speaking, you dialed her number.

And let's say, hypothetically, she answered...

"Yes."

"Lieutenant."

"Colonel. Good evening."

"How are you?"

"Fine Colonel. And yourself?"

"Excellent."

Here there will be a pause, because neither of you are used to this. It will be awkward and you both will wonder how things suddenly became this tense. The moment will stretch and then she will breathe and then you will speak.

"Lieutenant I-"

"Colonel, would you like to come over for dinner?"

"- would, what? Well, yes, of course, I mean, sure. Yes. What time?"

Another pause as you both feel the tug of the undercurrent of hidden speech pulling your conversation forward into deeper waters. This is where things will get difficult...

o

o

o

_'Not too late, sir. We have work tomorrow.'_

"Eight?", she says.

o

o

o

_**'Maybe I could stay longer if I came earlier.'**_

"That late?"

o

o

o

_'You're right. I might like it if things were earlier than eight. I said eight thinking maybe I wouldn't have time to cook.'_

"I don't have any food prepared."

o

o

o

_**'Excellent. This is why I called anyway.'**_

"Well, if that's the case… meet me at that little Italian place on Maple street?"

o

o

o

_'No cooking? Perfect. I hate cooking.'_

"Sure. What time?"

o

o

o

_**'Not too late, I don't want you to be too tired to work tomorrow. If we finish early maybe you'll take a walk with me after work.'**_

"Six ok?"

o

o

o

"Yes. I'll see you."

There's a moment of hesitation. Neither of you want to say goodbye.

She speaks first.

"Well, sir (you wince) I will see you at six."

"Yes. Six."

"Goodbye."

"Bye..."

This of course, is hypothetically speaking only. Your fingers dance along the black receiver of your phone, cold metal warming with the heat of your anxiety.

You pick up the phone and spin the dailer.

* * *

**Concept 7, Idea D**

**Title: Domesticity**

Her fingers dance across the breadboard, the unfortunate vegetable she was preparing falling in thin slices in a neat pile. You watch, hesitant, before approaching her from behind and resting your hands on her hips and your chin on her shoulder. Her fingers jerk, but her rhythm only slows. Her fingers remain intact and agile as ever.

"Whatcha makin'?"

"Lunch."

She is not as talkative as other sixteen year olds, but that's what most attractive about her. Mindless prattle was never very interesting to you.

Soft, blonde hair brushes your cheek and you turn to burry your nose in it. It's slightly damp from her bath earlier that morning.

She begins to dice the food, taking care to move her fingers out of the way of the glinting blade.

"I hope you're making soup."

A chilly breeze was blowing outside. The smell the sap from the firewood you had chopped lingered on your clothing.

You feel her muscles shifting in her back as she manipulates the chopping knife, feel her hip muscles relax under your touch.

"Yes," she answers.

She drops the knife and turns in your arms.

"Mr. Mustang-"

"Please, Riza. My name."

"Roy-"

"There you go."

"Roy I-"

You push you lips to hers and she squeaks in surprise. This is so out of character for her that you pull back, scared that you have frightened her.

She is not as hesitant. She doesn't wait for you to explain yourself.

She kisses you before your fears can grow.

* * *

**Concept 7, Idea D**

**Title: The Deal**

"Bumped into Hawkeye this weekend, Colonel."

"Really."

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Here's the interesting part. She was at the pool hall."

The colonel glanced up sharply from his paperwork.

"With who?"

"Dunno. Some guy."

Mustang's eyebrows knit.

"What'd he look like?"

"Tall. Dark hair."

"Damn," he muttered.

Havoc leaned back into his chair, lighting up his cigarette.

"Snooze you lose, sir."

"Smoking is not permitted inside the office Havoc. Take it outside," Roy snapped.

"Yes sir."

Havoc trudged out of the office and walked out onto the steps of the building where he bumped into Riza.

"Fish took the bait," he said.

"Situation ready to proceed?," she asked.

"Affirmative."

Riza smiled pleasantly.

"Thank you Havoc."

Havoc smiled at the approaching Sczieka, eyes sparkling as she waved to him, a thick tome clutched to her chest with her other arm.

"No Riza," he said, eyes following the sway of the bibliophile's hips.

"Thank _you_."

Riza nodded and turned to leave when she heard Havoc's voice.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

"Yes?"

"Don't leave him hangin' too long."

"I don't intend to," she answered.

* * *

**Concept 7, Idea E**

**Title: Question**

"Riza", Roy said, fingers tracing her cheek. She shifted, slipping a leg through his.

Roy's eyes glittered in the darkness of the room. The cool sheets rustled as he drew her closer to him.

She slumbered on as he pressed a warm kiss to her forehead.

He'd asked her this question a thousand times, a thousand different ways.

But he was too hesistant to say these things to her when she was capable of answering.

The possibility of rejection was a heady fear.

"Riza Hawkeye, will you marry me?"

She murmured something incoherent and pushed in closer to his embrace, the warmth of her skin quickly seeping into his.

He sighed and brushed a blonde lock of hair from her face.

Her soft breathing lulled him to sleep.

When she was sure he was still, her eyes snapped open.

"Yes," she breathed. "I will."

* * *

Sorry, no lemons. Not feeling very lemony today. 

EDIT: FANFICTION (DOT) NET WONT LET ME FORMAT THIS CHAPTER THE WAY I WANT TO. PLEASE BE ADVISED THE O'S USED IN IDEA C ARE ONLY TO ADD SPACES WHERE FANFICTION (DOT) NET WONT LET ME PUT THEM. THANK YOU.


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